Crypt Forty Seven Redux
by Lancer47
Summary: Buffy, Angel, Alias, Rambaldi, adventure, computers, mystery, fights, close calls, and a touch of romance. What else is there? WIP
1. Chapter 1

**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**

in a Crossover with Alias and Angel

by STFarnham

(Lancer47)

**Crypt Forty-Seven Redux**

_Authors Notes:_

_This is a sequel to Crypt Forty-Seven, which you really should read first. This sequel takes place about a year later, mostly in Los Angeles, during the first season of Alias, which is simultaneous with the third season of Angel and the sixth season of Buffy, if I've got the timeline reckoned correctly. _

_I am trying to shoehorn this story between episodes 6 & 7 of all three shows, assuming simultaneity of all three series. _

_I will undoubtedly go off canon a little, but I will at least try to stay on the straight and narrow where possible._

_I doubt that anyone will be spoiled by anything here. Possibly Alias fans, since it is still on. But all events here are first season only._

_Rating: PG-13_

_Summary: Buffy, Angel, Alias, Rambaldi, adventure, computers, mystery, fights, close calls, and a touch of romance. What else is there?_

**Chapter One**

_In which Buffy discovers something odd._

Buffy walked casually across Restfield Cemetery around midnight. She was quite relaxed, this being one of her usual patrol routes, and the of lack any supernatural tingling

contributed to her good feeling. So she was a little put out when she noticed some furtive shapes skulking about near a particularly large mausoleum. She walked up softly behind the intruders, or whatever they were, and saw three guys stealing a large iron box. They had apparently looted the Alpert family crypt, and were trying to steal away into the night with their booty. Buffy smiled to herself and took two steps and jumped, landing on top of the box. She balanced there and shook her finger at the young men trying to hold the box, but Buffy's added weight was too much for them, they dropped both the box and her. Then, much to Buffy's surprise, they took off running hell-for-leather, across the gravestones and into the night.

Buffy shook her head and whispered to herself, "Well, that was just sad." She bent down towards the box and lifted the lid. It groaned open, exposing a toy merry-go-round. But one that was made of unusually strong material, cast iron Buffy thought, and had a strange mechanism on top which purpose was not clear. At least, not clear to Buffy. So, she closed the lid and lifted the box, "Ooof, this really is heavy!" she said to no one in particular as she trundled off towards Giles' place.

--- ---

"Giles," Buffy yelled as she banged on his door, "open up!"

After a minute or so, Giles opened the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "While I'm always chuffed to see you, Buffy, can it not wait until a more civilized hour? An hour when I'm not quite so knackered?"

"No Giles, it can't. Or at least I'm not sure since you're using weird British words again. How come that always happens at odd hours of the morning? Anyway," Buffy dragged the iron box into the living room, "look at this. I took it away from some guys who were stealing it from the Alpert crypt over in Restfield. If I left it there, they'd probably come back and get it—and it might be dangerous or something so I couldn't bring it home. So I brought it here!"

"And I thank you for that. Well, let's see what's in it, shall we?"

"Oh, um, it looked like a toy merry-go-round."

"Well, that certainly sounds dangerous—it's a good thing you woke me up to discuss it," said Giles, in a disagreeable tone of voice.

Buffy opened the box and pulled out the contents. She set it on the side table and gave it a whirl. Giles glanced at the spinning toy with his most British sneer, but then he suddenly frowned and took a closer look. He stopped the motion with his hand and stared intently at the central pedestal. "Hmmm," he said.

Buffy raised her eyebrows, "_Hmmm_? I know that's not good. Giles, spill!"

"This," said Giles in his lecture voice, "is very interesting. Unless I am very much mistaken, and I am not, this is a Rambaldi artifact."

"Ram... whatsit?" asked Buffy.

"Rambaldi. You remember last year when that very, ah, healthy and dangerous young woman from the CIA was here?"

"Oh yes Giles, I remember her alright. She and Mr. Dixon were after a Rambaldi artifact then too. So, you think we should call the CIA on this? What do we tell them?"

"This object might well be dangerous after all. At the very least it could be important for something or other having to do with your national security. That would normally put it outside our purview, but since it fell into your lap you will have to keep the object safe and deliver it personally. You were quite right to bring it to my attention."

**Chapter Two**

_Sydney Bristow, where are you?_

"Hi Angel, howzit goin'?" asked Buffy from a pay phone half way between LA and Sunnydale.

"Uh Buffy? Is that you?" Angel replied sleepily.

"No, it's your fairy godmother and her wacky sidekick."

"Hi Buffy, sorry, I just got to bed a few minutes ago and I'm still half asleep. Is there another apocalypse coming?"

Buffy snorted, "No, I'm about an hour away from LA. I have a little errand to run and then I thought I'd drop by and say hello, maybe we can do lunch."

"_Do lunch_? Have you been possessed by a Hollywood Demon?"

Buffy laughed, "No silly, I thought that's the way all you LA types talked." She paused a moment and then said with a more serious tone, "Actually, I would like some backup for my trip. This isn't anything supernatural, I'm just delivering something to a friend, or acquaintance anyway. But the last time I saw her everything turned into such a huge and near-lethal mess that I'm a little wigged. So, backup—although I may be overreacting."

"Sure Buffy, you know I'll be there for you. Backup when you don't need it is far better than needing backup when you don't have any. Except, it being just after sunrise and all I'll have to send someone else."

"That's cool. I just want someone watching in case things go sour." After Buffy gave Angel Sydney's address, they hung up.

--- ---

"_Hi, this is Sydney, please leave a message." _Buffy frowned with frustration at the phone. This was the only phone number she had. She supposed she could call up the LA office of the CIA; she looked and they were actually listed in the phone book. _That's really super-secret_, she thought to herself. But remembering some of the conversations she had with Sydney last year, she had the feeling it would difficult to actually connect with Syd through the CIA office. So she finally left a message.

"Hi Sydney. This is Buffy Summers, you remember, from Sunnydale. I found another one of those things that you might want, you know, like last time, so I'll be by your place this morning. I hope you get this message."

--- ---

After the fourth time Buffy tried to call Sydney and got nothing but her machine, she finally decided to try the direct route. So she called the CIA office and asked for Sydney Bristow. Several ever more unpleasant people in succession told her that there was no such person working for the CIA. But Buffy was stubborn and kept insisting. Eventually she was connected to a Mr. Vaughn. Vaughn wasn't nearly as impolite as the previous people as he said, "No Miss Summers, there is no one named Sydney Bristow at this office. In fact, I can assure you that no one by that name has ever worked for the CIA in any capacity whatsoever. But I can probably help you, what did you need to talk about?"

"Oh, nothing much Mr. Vaughn. I just met her last year and she – well, I was just passing through town and couldn't find her at the number she gave me. I just wanted to say hello."

"Well, sorry we can't help. Goodbye."

Buffy looked at the phone, again with frustration. So far, this trip was a bust.

--- ---

A satellite receiving antenna array picked up a message, as it picked up almost all phone conversations from the area, and sent it along to a nameless computer. The computer scanned the message, along with millions of others, and pulled this one out for special consideration. The words _Sunnydale_ and _Buffy_, when paired with Sydney's phone, all conspired together to make this a noticeable communication.

"Sloan," said Sloan into his phone with his usual bored intonation.

"Sir, I've emailed you a suspicious message with both text and audio. I don't know if it will require further action, but you should hear it," said the security section technician.

--- ---

Buffy pulled up in her Jeep Cherokee in front of an older green house. It didn't appear to be lived in to her. The grass had been mowed, but not recently, there weren't any papers on the porch or anything like that, but there was a whole empty vibe that Buffy picked up on.

So, she did what came natural to her. Buffy broke in with a quick twist on the doorknob. _I hope that doesn't cost too much to replace_, she thought, _I can't really afford much_. But it was obvious the moment she walked in that the house was unoccupied. In fact, she could see that the place had been trashed, possibly burgled. Worse, she could see what looked like bloodstains in the bathtub. A surprisingly large amount. Even though the stains had to be many months old, now she was **really** worried.

Buffy wandered around in the house but was unable to find anything that was of interest. So she went to the phone and started to dial Giles when the front door burst in and two guys with guns attacked her. This was something she could relate to: she kicked the gun out of number ones hand, breaking his wrist in the process, then dodged a bullet from the second guy and broke his arm. She stopped winding up and kicking when she realized that these were human opponents and went to a straight punch to the jaw and chest of each of them. This would have worked fine if it hadn't been for the guy who shot her in the back from the rear window.

**Chapter Three**

_Buffy Summers, where are you?_

"Angel, Angel," a frantic Cordelia shouted into her cell phone, "Angel pickup pickup pickup!"

"Cordy, what is it?" Angel replied.

"Buffy got shot, I think, anyway, some guys bundled her up with dripping blood and all and then an ambulance came and took her away! What do we do? I got the ambulance license number, and the name of the hospital on the side of the ambulance! I'm following them up thirtieth street, toward downtown! Oh wait, they're pulling into a hospital, it's called _Sisters of Mercy Memorial Hospital and Hospice_. Should I go in?" Cordelia finally wound down enough for Angel to get a word in.

"No Cordy, you better come back to the hotel. Let's do some recon first, there must be something going on that we don't know about. I think we can count on the fact that if the Slayer arrives at a modern hospital alive, that she'll most likely survive."

"But Angel, we don't know if she's alive or not!"

"We'll find out. Give the doctors time to work."

Cordelia could hear the despair in Angel's voice. He was trying to hide it, but Cordy was familiar with Angel's every tone. She said softly, "She'll be fine Angel, you'll see, she'll be fine."

--- ---

Back at the Hyperion, Cordelia was checking out the Hospital's public pages. Of course, there was no listing of patients, that being against the privacy act. So she called Willow.

"Hi Willow, this is Cordelia. We have a problem and we need your help," said Cordelia.

"Sure Cordy, what's the sitch?" Willow replied sunnily.

"Buffy got shot and taken to a hospital, but we don't know who the bad guys are, or why she got shot, anything about what's going on. So we need you to hack into the hospital's records and find out anything you can about Buffy!"

"WHAT! BUFFY GOT SHOT! What are you doing about it!" Willow switched to frantic instantly.

"Willow! Willow! Concentrate! We need your hacker-grrl skillz to help Buffy!"

"We're coming to LA. Do you have five empty rooms for us at your hotel?"

"Sure, but Willow, hack the hospital first, like right now!" Cordelia commanded.

"OK OK!" replied Willow while she started typing madly on her laptop. "This may take awhile Cordy, have you called Giles yet? Do so, and call me back."

"Hello Giles?" asked Cordelia.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Giles, this is Cordelia, Buffy's in the hospital, she got shot. But we don't..."

Giles peremptorily interrupted, "WHAT? What are you doing about it? Do you have any idea about what is going on?"

"...no Giles, we don't know what's happened, or why. Willow is hacking into the hospital right now to find out what we can find out. We were just providing a little backup, but Buffy didn't indicate that anything like this would happen. I was watching from across the street."

"Calm down Cordelia, did you by any chance see a tall woman, very athletic, probably blond, but possibly some other hair color, very striking, anywhere near by?"

"No, definitely not, I saw no one but Buffy and three guys with guns and an otherwise empty house. Buffy said it was a simple errand, but she had a feeling that something might be wrong. Do you know what's going on?"

"Well, I'm feeling very much out in the cold right now. She was supposed to be making contact with an agent of the CIA. But I have the feeling that she may have inadvertently walked in on something she shouldn't have." Giles sighed. "I suppose we'll have to come to LA, do you have, um, four, possibly five rooms available for us?"

"Yup, Willow already reserved them. Who is this mystery woman of yours?"

"She is Sydney Bristow, but it would be wise not to bandy about that name until we know a lot more about what's going on. Don't do anything until I get there."

"Yeah, like that's gonna work on Angel. And what kind of name is Sidney for a girl anyway?"

"Let me talk to him. It's Sydney with a 'y'."

"Angel! Giles wants a word with you!" shouted Cordelia into the office.

Angel picked up his phone, "Yes?"

"Angel," said Giles urgently, "be careful here. Buffy was to meet a woman named Sydney Bristow, she's a CIA field officer. I believe that Buffy may have walked in on something she shouldn't have. It's imperative that you don't go drawing attention to yourself until we have an accurate idea of what's going on."

"Certainly, but we are making plans. I won't advertise, Giles. But I won't be waiting around for you with my thumb up my ass either. We're in full research mode and we'll be ready to mount a rescue operation on a moment's notice."

"I'll see you this afternoon."

--- ---

Just after sunset, Vaughn parked his car in a large parking garage. He walked out the back entrance, through a chain link fence with a large slit cut through most of the links, down an alley and into an unmarked door. He walked through the warehouse and could hear nothing out of place. As he moved he constantly swept his eyes back and forth, and checked out certain telltales that he had left in place the last time he was here. Everything appeared clean.

Finally, he arrived at an empty tool crib, and found Sydney waiting for him. He smiled at her, "How was your trip?"

"Oh god, Vaughn, we have to get Dixon in with us, between him and me we killed four CIA agents! Dixon had a backup detonator! Those men died for nothing!" She put her head in her hands.

"Sydney, Sydney, they didn't die for nothing! Don't say that. We cannot bring Dixon in, do you know what it might do to him to become a double agent?"

"Of course I do, I am one, remember?"

It took Vaughn some time to sooth and comfort Syd, but he managed. Eventually she was calm enough for Vaughn to bring up new business.

"Sydney, remember last year when you visited Sunnydale?"

"Sure, how could I forget. That's a strange place for a California town. How did you know I went there?"

"It was in your report, your first one to the CIA."

"Yeah, but Vaughn, that was Tolstoy long, in your words, how could you remember all that now?"

"Someone came to town and called CIA headquarters, asking for you. This caused some consternation, as you might imagine, since we really aren't used to strangers popping by asking to talk to double agents. Eventually she ended up talking to me. Of course, she learned absolutely nothing of substance, except our insistence that we never heard of anyone called Sydney Bristow."

"Who was it?"

"A girl named Buffy Summers. Do you know her?"

Sydney twitched a little. "Yes, what did she say?"

"She said she tried to call you at home but got nothing but your machine. She was starting to sound worried and I suppose our denial of your existence added to her worries."

"Yeah, but she only has my old phone number and old address. What's worse, Sloan still has the place under electronic surveillance. Depending on what Buffy said in her message to me, she might be in trouble."

"I don't understand this. What could you have said to a high school girl that could possibly interest Sloan? I rechecked your report on Sunnydale today, after the call, and it seemed fairly a innocuous mission. You and Dixon went there, you found a Rambaldi artifact of some kind that Sloan wanted, and you came back. You didn't say anything about Miss Summers, other than she was there."

"You're gonna have to trust me on this. There are some things about Sunnydale that are unbelievable. That Sunnydale report is incredibly incomplete, even if it is accurate in broad strokes. But believe me when I say you don't want to know what goes on in Sunnydale. Still, I am awfully worried about Buffy."

Vaughn couldn't get another word out of Sydney concerning Sunnydale. He finally gave up.

**Chapter Four**

_Rosenberg vs. Flinkman_

Willow's eyebrows shot upwards when a dialog box popped up: 'TRACE EXECUTION DETECTED', it said. She instantly stopped typing and spoke aloud, "Data incendiere file 07 3e 34a 23!" She spread her fingers out and a green glow appeared over and around her computer. A few moments later the dialog box was replaced by one that said, 'TRACE INTERUPT EXECUTE' and, 'CONNECTION FAILED AT SERVER 47' followed by a few hundred arrayed hexadecimal numbers and finally the line: 'TRACE DATA DELETED 12X SERVERS 1, 2, 3, ... 47'. Willow sighed a heartfelt sigh of relief.

Tara, looking over Willow's shoulder, said, "Honey, what happened? You're relieved that you couldn't get through?"

"No Tara, I'm relieved that I was able to disconnect their trace at their own server as well as erase all the info they collected. Well, who's ever server that was. I don't think I was in Kansas anymore. You know, for a hospital that was absolutely amazing security—it's better than military level. There's someone out there who is genuinely scary who nearly got a fix on my computer. If it wasn't for witchcraft, I don't think I could've cut them off. Those guys are GOOD!"

Tara looked concerned.

--- ---

"Mr. Sloan! Mr. Sloan!" yelled Marshall as he ran towards Sloan's office, puffing and gasping all the way.

"Yes Marshall, what is it?"

"Someone is trying to get into our computers! They attempted to do an end run around our security by trying for the CIA/SD-6 hospital, but I guess they didn't realize that I run security for the whole system from here." He frowned and continued, "Unless they were just trying to get into the hospital records. But why would they want to do that?"

"But anyway, whoever it was, they're GOOD. Those guys saw my trace, I almost had them, but POOF, the trace was gone, just like THAT." Marshall snapped his fingers on 'that'. "But I can't understand how they stopped the trace, and somehow, erased the log and the dump both from my servers. I didn't think that was possible. Not only that, but, but, but I have my tracing program setup to do a postmortem dump to the printer, automatically. I expected to find a three-foot-high stack of computer paper full of octal machine code. The stack of paper is there all right, but there's no printing—it's just blank paper. I'm really perplexed Mr. Sloan, I just don't see how it's possible, even theoretically. I'm really worried, we may need some high powered help on this, maybe we have to call in NSA."

"No Marshall, we don't need NSA. I have every confidence in your ability. Besides, you did stop them, right? You just didn't get a trace."

"Yes, yes, I stopped them. But you don't understand Mr. Sloan, they couldn't have done what they did to cover their tracks. And yet they did it. You see, in order to keep the printer from printing the core dump, they would have had to access the system before they accessed the system. Clearly impossible. I'm stumped."

"Well, keep working on it Marshall. I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"You do understand Mr. Sloan that when I say 'core dump' I don't really mean 'core', that's an old fashioned term that's sometimes still used by main-framers even though..." Marshall trailed off when he noticed that Sloan was no longer paying any attention.

**Chapter Five**

_SD-6 vs Proliferating Scoobies_

Late afternoon at the Hyperion saw a meeting between Sunnydale Scoobies and the LA contingent. Gunn and Fred were newbies, and after introductions all around Cordelia and Wesley brought out a couple of trays of snacks and bottled water. Cordy handed a bottle of blood to Angel.

Giles looked at this largess and said, "Oh my, tea would perfect at this juncture." He was utterly boggled when Fred brought him a fresh pot of tea with the proper accouterments. "Thank you very much Winifred," said Giles, recovering quickly.

Fred almost said something to Giles about what she liked to be called, but her full name pronounced in an English accent sounded so unusual to her ears that she simply smiled and sat down.

Giles looked around and started the meeting, "This morning I called in a favour from the British Intelligence group, MI-6, through the offices of the Watcher's Council. As you may or may not know, the Council prefers to remain aloof of governments, but, we do maintain a list of government contacts. We find that this often can short-circuit misunderstandings and miscommunications. Sometimes it even works, and sometimes it doesn't, as in the case of the Initiative. At any rate, I did get a name and number to call here in LA, a CIA Agent who may possibly be inclined to help us. Mind you, Intelligence Agencies in general are very close-mouthed. It will be astonishing if we convince him to say anything, but, it is all we have to begin with. Wesley is trying to find him now."

Wesley came out of the office, shaking his head. I called the LA office of the CIA. Am I the only one who thinks it's kind of weird that their number is in the phone book? Well, that's not my world, it must make sense to somebody. Anyway, they admitted to Mr. Vaughn's employment, but not to Sydney Bristow's. In fact, they claimed they never heard of anyone with that name. But Mr. Vaughn is 'unavailable' for an undetermined amount of time. I have no clue what this means, but we are unquestionably on our own for now.

Willow went next, "Fred and I managed to get to the patient records at the hospital. The only way it was possible was to use magic entirely. Any attempt at all to use computer skills to hack their system brought us to the attention of some amazing security group. Whoever it is it's people we don't want to know. But magic worked, we simply caused people who worked there to access the correct information, then we read their minds. We spread it around so I hope no one gets into trouble, but Buffy is in room 347, and she is classified as _serious but stable._ But I was able to look at her most recent medical tests versus the one she had this morning, and when you consider her Slayer accelerated healing I would say her condition is nearly cured. They may not yet realize this. I'd like to get her out fast."

Angel spoke up, "I'm ready to go right now. They have armed guards throughout the hospital. This is one strange place, I never heard of armed guards carrying military weapons in an American hospital before. South America, maybe. Because of that threat, I'll go in alone, I want backup on the perimeter only, out of the line of fire. Willow, can you and Fred crash their computer system without getting identified?"

"Oh yes, that we can do."

Fred spoke up, "The guard shifts change every four hours, fifteen minutes before the hour: 3:45, 7:45, 11:45, right around the clock. The nurse's shift changes every eight hours, on the hour. Doctor's wander in and out at will, except for residents who never leave as far as I can tell."

Fred continued, "Oh, do be careful Angel. I researched the M16A2 5.56mm automatic rifles that these people use. I found that the bullet is a spitzer shaped object that's prone to yawing in soft tissue, and then it fragments, depending of course on the muzzle velocity which is in turn dependent on the barrel length and powder load. You know, there's a beautiful set of equations which explains all this..." Fred noticed that everyone was staring at her, "but Angel, that's a vicious little bullet that tumbles around inside your body. I think it could kill even vampires if it hit you just right. Unless they're using the short barrels. And sometimes they put tracer rounds every three or bullets. That could set you on fire, especially if they used incendiary tracers with white phosphorous."

Xander said, "Hey, that sounds like a good idea. I wonder if we could get AR-15s with those tracers?"

"Some other time Xander," said Giles. But Gunn gave Xander a thumbs-up gesture.

Willow leaned over and said to Tara, "Fred is a physicist, sometimes she goes off on tangents."

Tara nodded.

"Oh yeah," Willow added, "one more thing. I was able to look at Buffy through a nurse's eyes, they have her tied to the bed with big leather straps. Once she gets her full strength back she may be able to break them. I think. But my guess is she's definitely too weak right now. So, bring tools."

With that, everyone starting packing and getting ready to go.

--- ---

Micheal Vaughn, Sydney and Jack Bristow, and Weiss had a meeting in the warehouse. Jack Bristow said, "I confirmed that Buffy Summers is being held at the hospital in Room 347. I was able to slip your photo and prepared ID info into the SD-6 personnel ID computer Mr. Vaughn. You should have no trouble getting into the facility and finding the right room with this fake ID. But I must reiterate Mr. Vaughn, this is a foolish gamble for no gain that I can see, except to feed my daughter's whimsical humanitarian impulse. I wouldn't be at all surprised if you get yourself and this high school friend of Sydney's killed on the way out."

Sydney and Jack glared at each other until Sydney said, "I owe Buffy Summers, I will pay my debt. There are things that happened in Sunnydale that you do not know about, and if I have anything to say about it, you will never know. So are we ready?"

"Sure," said Weiss, "we're all gonna stay outside in the van while Vaughn risks his neck for you and this Buffy chick. Easy for us." Sydney's glare extended to Weiss.

"There's still another big problem here," said Jack, "you have no backup plan. If the situation goes into the crapper, Vaughn will be stuck. This is not a CIA sanctioned operation—there are no resources that we can call on for help. Sydney can't rush into this facility with any hope of rescuing you, she would be identified and neutralized almost immediately. Even if Sydney and I entered and managed to find some legitimate reason in Sloan's eyes to be there, it would be extremely difficult to mount any kind of rescue without all of us blowing our covers. Mr. Weiss has that problem, plus no ID that's of any use in an SD-6 facility, plus limited field experience. What I am saying Mr Vaughn, just one slip-up means you'll be facing torture and death with no possibility of rescue. Accordingly, I see no reason for either Mr. Weiss or myself to stick around." And with that, Jack left. Weiss stayed behind, but he was a little twitchy though.

--- ---

Buffy was wide awake, and except for a sore spot on her back and an ache that seemed to come from inside on her left side, she felt fine. She was surreptitiously testing her bonds when a doctor opened the door and smiled at her. "So Miss Summers, how are we feeling tonight?"

" 'We' are feeling just fine. If you would undo these straps I'll just check myself out of the hospital."

"Ha ha, very funny" said the doctor, "you got shot yesterday. You have a lacerated lung, damage to the small colon, several muscle groups that are grievously wounded, and bruised ribs. It's amazing the bullet didn't do more damage. It was an ordinary .38 without any special fragmenting characteristics that went pretty much straight through you without hitting anything that would cause immediate death – you were lucky. We repaired your colon and stitched you up here and there. But, it's going to be tough going for you for several months. The human body is an amazing healing machine but when you abuse like this it takes time ..." He ground to a stop when he started actually noticing what the various charts were telling him. He opened the large envelope he had under his arm and shook out a couple of x-rays. He stood looking at the first one in open-mouthed astonishment.

"Ms. Summers," he said, "my name is Doctor Jacoby. I believe that you are going to make both of us famous. Unless, I am the victim of a practical joke. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

"No doc," said Buffy, "I just heal fast. Always have. It's no big, really. Why don't you test my reflexes?"

The doctor pulled out his laptop computer and plugged it in to a convenient port. He pulled up the latest results and started to really study the information from the digital x-ray department and echo-gram results. He found the bloodwork to be especially startling. He turned to Buffy and pulled out his stethoscope and started checking her various parts. Buffy was quite put out at this unnecessary and overly thorough exam.

"Ms. Summers, you are under a restraining order. Until a higher authority releases you, you must stay where you are. I am going to amplify that. We are going to be running more tests on you tomorrow, oh yes, many many tests. See you then."

"Yay me," Buffy mumbled to herself, "don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

She went back to testing the bonds, trying to work the fasteners loose, when the door opened again and yet another doctor came in. Buffy looked up in irritation as this one came over and bent down to whisper, "Are you Buffy Summers?"

"What the hell is this? You're wetting your pants to experiment on me and you don't even know my name! I want out!"

"Hush, shhhh," said Vaughn with waving motions, "I'm here to help you escape. Are you feeling well? Here, let me put this on you." He pulled a small plastic headband with an earpiece and microphone out of his pocket and slipped on Buffy's head. Buffy was very suspicious until she heard Sydney's voice through the ear set.

"Buffy," Sydney said, "this is Sydney Bristow. The man with you is Michael Vaughn, he's going to help you out. Please, do as he asks and be careful, there's armed guards in there with M-16s. You don't want to get hit with one of those."

In the meantime Vaughn had produced a small set of bolt-cutters and was proceeding to cut the fasteners that held the thick leather straps. Buffy relaxed and let him work. He had one more to go when the lights went out and the various medical readouts all went black. After a few seconds dim emergency lighting took over. Then Angel barged in. He took one look at Vaughn and started to attack. Buffy was able to break the last strap and leaped up between the two.

"Angel, stop. He's on our side." Angel slid to a stop and Vaughn put away his .40 Glock Model 22. He didn't stop frowning though. Especially when he looked at the last strap and saw it ripped. He didn't have enough time to worry about that and pulled a package out from under his lab coat and handed it to Buffy.

"Here, put this on. It's a nurse's outfit."

Buffy stepped into the small bathroom to change while Angel and Vaughn traded distrustful glances.

--- ---

Vaughn stepped out into the hallway first. The nurse's station was a hive of activity as nurse's and doctor's rushed from records to rooms of the most severely ill patients to make sure the emergency power was keeping them alive. Vaughn signaled Buffy and Angel to follow. They all rushed like everyone else down corridor and ducked into the first stairwell.

Angel went first. They only made it down to the landing half way to the second floor when the door below slammed open and two guards ran up. Angel took a bullet, and after gasping for a moment, vamped out and leaped over the rail at the guard who shot him – which guard was paying no attention to Angel since, in his experience, people who were hit with that round usually died shortly after. He was very surprised.

The door opened above Vaughn, he shot upwards and the door closed.

Meanwhile, Buffy jumped over the rail and landed feet first on the head of the second guard. That pretty much put him out. Vaughn, running down the stairs behind, grabbed up the M-16s and they all continued down to the first floor. As Buffy started for the fire exit Vaughn shouted, "No, the alarms will sound!"

"We've got that covered," said Angel, "Willow crashed the whole security and power system."

Buffy didn't even pause, she just kicked the door open and they ran across the lawn and jumped into the first van with open doors.

"Hey Willow, nice job. Step on it Wesley!" Which was hardly necessary as he was already accelerating. "Oh, and this is Michael Vaughn, he seems to be a friend of Sydney's who was also breaking me out tonight." Buffy remembered her mic and said into, "Sydney, can you hear me?"

"Yes Buffy, are you sure you're in the right van?"

"Yes, just follow us to collect Vaughn. We're going to the Hyperion Hotel," she questioned Willow with her eyes, Willow nodded yes, "do you know where that is?"

"Um, hold on." After a short pause, she continued, "yes, but it's abandoned."

"Nevertheless, that's where we're going."

Vaughn was trying his best to remain unruffled and cool.

"Ah, Mr. Michael Vaughn?" asked Wesley.

"Yes."

"I tried to get in touch with you earlier today at your super-secret headquarters. But they told me you were unavailable. Now we know why."

Vaughn was deeply unhappy.

Willow was tapping away on her computer. Angel was watching Buffy. Wesley was driving the van near it's limits of adhesion; Vaughn decided someone must have put some money into beefing up the suspension and engine. He hoped Wes would concentrate on driving and quite chatting. Vaughn looked out the back and couldn't see anyone following.

"Where is Sydney's van?" he asked.

Buffy spoke up, "They paused a block from the hospital to observe. She says they got power back already and the place looks like an anthill, what several dozens of guards running around and carloads of SD-6 agents arriving. Now she's two blocks behind us and one street over. She's decoying two cars. Oops, only one now. Hold on ... now none. Damn, she really is lethal isn't she!"

They could see some kind of explosion across a parking lot over to the next parallel block.

Willow had shut down her computer and said to Vaughn, "That's a real complement coming from a Slayer."

Vaughn gave up on cool and settled for baffled.

--- ---

Willow shut her eyes for a few moments. When she opened them she leaned forward and told Wesley to take the next right. Wesley started to argue, but Willow emphasized her command with her resolve face.

Wesley nodded and told everyone to hang on. He slammed the brakes and then yanked the wheel to the right. The van was now sliding sideways down the street. When the next street was in front, he released the brakes, stomped on the gas, and straightened the wheel. The van shuddered but immediately shot down the avenue.

Vaughn said mildly, "I didn't think you could do that with a van."

Willow shouted, "The next right Wesley! And take it faster, there's no traffic."

Wesley repeated the previous maneuver and they found themselves practically flying down the street. About a block ahead was another van, stopped and surrounded by a half-dozen vampires. Buffy looked out the window and told Wesley, "When you see my hand slap the windshield in front of you, slam on the brakes." Wes nodded.

Buffy opened the side door and, grasping the top door rail, she flipped herself out, up and on top of the van. Wes was already slowing down, they only had a hundred or so feet to go, Buffy slapped the windshield in front of Wes's face. He slammed the brakes. Buffy tucked herself into a ball and shot forward at forty miles per hour. In front of her was a group of vamps; Buffy straightened herself out and hit two of them with her boots. Her heels weren't sharp enough to penetrate, but she had stakes in both her hands. She staked them as she tumbled past, then flipped around horizontally so she could kick two more. By now her velocity had fallen to a crawl so she she twirled around vertically and landed on her feet. Sydney was standing to the side of her stopped van, facing two vampires. Weiss was behind her and to her right, shooting vampires and wondering why they weren't falling; he was quite shaken by now. Sydney was kicking and hiting for all she was worth, which was quite a lot, but she didn't have any stakes on her so all she could do was slow down the attack.

Wesley's van was still screaming to a stop when Buffy dusted the the last two vampires.

Everyone jumped out of the vans, looking around wildly, trying to figure out what happened.

Sydney said, "Hi Buffy. I'm glad to see you!"

"Hey Syd. Happy to be here."

Weiss calmed down and observed, "You know, one of these vans is facing the wrong way on a one-way street."

"Let's regroup at the Hyperion," said Angel, "preferably before we attract any local police."

Everyone agreed. After reboarding their vehicles they motored sedately away.

_To be continued._


	2. Chapter 2

**Crypt Forty-Seven Redux**

_Author's Notes:_

_First: thank you for the reviews, it's very much appreciated._

_Second: it occurs to me that I made an error when I wrote that this takes place one year after the first story—it is actually two years later. Clearly BtVS Season 4 for Crypt 47, and BtVS Season 6 for this Sequel. I'll update Part I one of these days._

_Third: the problem of SD-6 knowing the identities of our heroes will be addressed eventually._

_Fourth: the phone intercepts are problematic. We saw in the Alias pilot an apparent phone intercept, but really, it had be a simple tap on Sydney's phone. SD-6 is a criminal organization, not a government. So, I sort of fanwanked it into a kind of combination—I figure SD-6 could have the resources to keep track of thousands of phone numbers, and has computers that can scan conversations from those phones only. The idea that SD-6 has the resources to monitor all phone conversations in California or even just in LA is hard to believe. There will be a minor edit of Chapter 1 to reflect this someday._

_Sixth: the whole idea of the 'SD-6 Hospital' bothers me greatly. Why on Earth would a bunch international gangsters want to fund a hospital? I can't even fanwank that one into believability. We just have to accept it if we wish to enjoy Alias._

_Oh yeah, Seventh: sorry about the long delay between chapters. I think my muse may be incompetent._

**Chapter Six**

_Everybody has questions_

The vans pulled to a stop in the alley behind the Hyperion. Everyone trooped into the hotel and found Giles, plus the rest of the LA office waiting.

"Buffy," Giles said as he wrapped her in his arms and hugged her, "I really wish you wouldn't let yourself get shot. It's very upsetting."

"Yeah," replied Buffy, "it was a real drag. I'll try not to let it happen again," after a moment Buffy added, "ah, personal space?"

"Oh yes yes, of course," Giles unwrapped his arms and stepped back, "I should have known that you would be able to throw off the effects of a mere bullet."

"I nearly lost it Giles; if they hadn't wanted me alive, I'd be dead. There was nothing to stop them from putting another bullet into the back of my head while I lay bleeding and unconscious on Sydney's floor. Um, who were those guys anyway? And what did I do to piss them off so much? And is there a way to unpiss them?"

"Well Buffy," said Sydney, "you ran into an international criminal organization—enemies of the United States. I believe all you did was be in the wrong place at the wrong time. These people that stop at nothing to advance their aims."

"Aims? That would be...?"

"Well, that's a little tougher. Besides the usual: money, power and influence, they also collect Rambaldi artifacts. I don't really know why."

"I might be able to explain that, the occult being a specialty of OUR organization. But, who are you representing? And who are you?" Giles asked, looking first at Sydney and lastly at Vaughn and Weiss.

Wesley broke in, "Ah, let me introduce you to the elusive Mr. Michael Vaughn, a CIA Special Agent."

"You have me mixed up with the FBI, they're the Special Agents. I am a CIA case officer."

"A spy."

"No, an officer. You can look me up in the phone book, you can't do that with spies."

Most everyone eyed Sydney. She wasn't happy to be the new center of attention and said, "You don't want to know anything about me. I'm boring and dull, I'm a grad student who works in a bank and my number's in the book." She was met with knowing smiles and a few mild hoots of laughter. She added, "I know that you know what I do, or at least some of what I do. If ever you want to talk about me to anyone, please remember that my fiancé was murdered by SD-6 for no other reason than I told him about my job."

Everyone found that thought sobering and unsettling.

Vaughn decided to change the subject and asked, "Why isn't Angel dead, or at least bleeding out? I saw him collect a bullet from an M-16."

Buffy asked, "What's SD-6? I thought you worked for the CIA?"

Willow asked, "Why does that hospital have military level security?"

Wesley asked, "Precisely why was Buffy shot and kidnapped?"

Weiss asked, "How come those guys I shot didn't die until Buffy here hit them and they turned into dust?"

Vaughn asked, "Why isn't Buffy dead?"

Weiss asked, "Sydney, why aren't you asking any questions?"

Buffy asked, "I heard someone at that hospital refer to Mr. Sloan in a deferential manner. I thought he worked for the CIA, and how come I couldn't get transferred to Sydney's phone when I called up the CIA office? And where is Mr. Dixon? I kind of miss him, he's a lot more unflappable than Vaughn here."

--- ---

**Chapter Seven**

_Everybody has Answers, But They're Not All Talking_

Vaughn said, "SD-6 is classified. Everything about this is classified, we can't tell you anything."

"Well Mr. Vaughn," said Giles, "that's certainly helpful. I see that with your input, we'll get to the bottom of this quagmire in no time at all. Our tax dollars at work."

Vaughn had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

Sydney shook her head at Vaughn and said to the others, "SD-6 is a criminal organization. I did not know this for more years than I care to think about. The head of SD-6 is Sloan, who once worked for the CIA until he turned traitor."

Vaughn shot an angry look at Syd, but remained silent.

Sydney continued, "SD-6 tells most of its employees that it is a covert branch of the CIA."

"And that works?" exclaimed Willow.

"Yes, it does. Actually, historically, most spies don't know who they're working for. I suspect most don't care care. And once I found out that I was working for the enemy, I went to the CIA and became a double agent. If you tell anyone over a phone, or leave a message, it's entirely possible that the information would lead to my death, and yours too. SD-6 has tentacles in all walks of life, in places even we can't imagine, so, for the safety of all of us, you must beware of security. And you will not know who knows what: for instance, Mr. Dixon believes that he is working for the CIA, but he is actually part of SD-6. One day I hope to correct his understanding, but my bosses at the CIA are leery of letting him in on the secret."

Willow asked, "And the hospital?"

"That is an SD-6 facility. Although it is operated openly and appears to follow all the regulations that govern such facilities, there are rooms in there that you really do not want to enter."

Willow shuddered. "Let me guess, you check in but don't check out?"

Syd nodded grimly.

Wesley asked, "And why did they kidnap Buffy?"

"We don't know for sure. But I suspect that some of the phone calls to my old house were monitored by SD-6. When Sloan heard the words 'Sunnydale', he put his security section into action. Need I point out the SD-6 security section knows they are criminals?"

Weiss spoke up, "All right, our turn. I want answers. Why did those people have fangs and weird deformities? Why did they explode into dust? How come they didn't die when I shot them?"

"Mr. Weiss," said Giles, "are you not familiar with vampire tales? Your nose has been rubbed in the fact that vampires are real, has it not? Yet you are refusing to admit the existence of vampires. Just how much proof do you need before adding to your world view?"

Sydney's phone rang. She looked at the readout in irritation and said, "It's Sloan. He's signaling nine one one. I need to call him back before he gets suspicious. All of you be quiet."

Sydney punched the button for Sloan and identified herself. She listened for half a minute and said, "Yes sir, I'll be there in fifteen minutes." She looked up at the expectant faces and said, "The SD-6 facility was attacked. The Rambaldi artifact that Buffy brought with her was stolen. Sloan is angry, and the CIA will be even more upset once they learn of this debacle."

"Wait!" said Buffy, "how did they get the artifact? I left it in the back of my jeep."

"They towed your car, of course, and tore it apart into little pieces until they found everything they could possibly find. Why do you think they were there?"

"My mom's car! We have to get it back! She's gonna kill me!"

Vaughn asked, "Who attacked SD-6 with enough fire-power to get in and out again?"

"I don't know, Vaughn. But I'll find out and get back to you," said Sydney, "walk with me to the street."

Buffy started to follow but she was waved off.

"Please Buffy, would you wait until I get back to you?"

"Uh, well, sure."

"OK, tomorrow then. I'll find you here, right?"

"Umm, right."

--- ---

Sloan stood at the head of the conference room table, staring through the glass walls at the rest of SD-6. He was impeccably dressed and groomed, but he positively bristled with anger. He turned to his assembled team and said, "This evening we were attacked, viciously, by K-Directorate. They somehow managed to pinpoint the location of our latest acquisition, a fine example of Rambaldi. Marshall's lab was partially destroyed. On the other hand, our people acquitted themselves well for some of the attackers didn't get out alive. Although I would have liked some live prisoners."

"How's Marshall?" interrupted Sydney.

Sloan answered, "I'm told he's stable. Don't worry, they didn't get any of his access codes so the computer system is still secure. Or, at least as secure as it was. We're still inventorying what's left of the lab to try and figure out if anything else was taken."

Sloane clicked his computer and scenes of the attack came up. Sydney looked at the screen and stiffened. She said, "Anna Espinosa! That bitch!"

Sloan, pacing back and forth at the head of the table said, "I want Sydney and Dixon to track down the artifact. Remember, the artifact first, then retribution but only if you have time. I WANT that Rambaldi device!"

Dixon asked, "Where do we look?"

Jack Bristow answered, "We were able to track them back to a warehouse on fifth. Security Section raided it almost immediately, but they had already decamped. But SS did find several clues. You and Sydney are to follow them up. If you can capture or neutralize Anna Espinoza, do so. But the mission objective is to retrieve the artifact. We believe that it could be a serious danger to our national security."

Sydney shook her head. She scoffed, "Oh come on, what danger could this centuries old," she paused a moment while trying to decide what she should know about the object for Sloan's sake, "historical oddity be to us, in the twenty-first century?"

"That's on a Need-To-Know basis Agent Bristow," said Sloan, "and furthermore, we can't entirely answer that question anyway. There is a great deal of uncertainty involved. But trust me Sydney, when I say that it is important."

Sloan did his best to appear trustworthy and puppy-like to Syd, but it took all of Sydney's self-control to prevent her roiling stomach from upchucking it's contents across the polished conference table.

Sloan said, "Jack will be the control officer of your mission, please confer together and Jack will keep me briefed. If there are no more questions, then you're dismissed."

--- ---

Sydney stopped rushing just outside her front door. She breathed deeply, caught her breath, let it out, and consciously became a grad student/banker. Then she walked in and said brightly, "Hi Francie. How was your day?"

"Oh, hey Syd," she replied, "it wasn't a bad day. You?"

"Oh, one of my clients is all upset about something. Tomorrow I have to fly to New York for a meeting."

"Geez Syd, New York? What are you going to do about East European History? You know there's gonna be a quiz tomorrow. It's that time of the month."

"Then I'll try to make it up. Can't be helped. My job's on the line on this one. It looks like I screwed up and miscalculated a tax write-off on an offshore resort. Mind you, I think the government is wrong and I'm right, but I have to meet and go over this stuff with the clients and lawyers tomorrow."

"Woah, that sounds serious."

"It could be a big deal, if I can't pinpoint the problem. A whole lotta moola is at stake on this one." The phone rang and Francie grabbed it.

"NO!" shouted Francie into the phone, "this isn't fucking Joey's Pizza! Can't you read the damn number? It's not a five, it's a three!" And she slammed the phone into the cradle. "Damnit!" she exclaimed to Sydney, "this phone thing is really starting to piss me off!"

"Uh, yeah," said Syd. "You know, I think I'm gonna go get a bottle of wine. I've got a hankering for a nice Chianti."

--- ---

Sydney stepped into the back room at her local wine merchant. She saw Vaughn leaning against a rough, thick-planked wood table, reading the labels on a couple of bottles of wine. She didn't acknowledge his presence and walked around and through the stacks of wine until she was certain there was no one else back there. She stopped next to Vaughn and asked, "What's my counter-mission? I assume you know what my assignment is."

"Yeah, I talked to Jack thirty minutes ago. I'm supposed to get a detailed description of the artifact from Buffy Summers. If that blond ditz comes through, I'll get the boys in the back room to make a duplicate. If that works, we'll be ready to switch them out when you get back from London. If you and I can't make the switch, then your father will do it, right in the parking garage at SD-6."

"I don't think even the great Jack Bristow can make the switch under the electronic eyes of Security Section, right in the belly of the beast, as it were. We really need to do it before I get there."

"Trouble is, it's kind of a big box, and heavy too. You're flying commercial, right?"

"Yes. It'll probably have to go in the baggage compartment, or as freight even."

"Then I'll insert someone into the baggage handling department. You and Dixon won't even realize the switch occurred. Errr, what airline are you flying?"

"Don't know, Dixon's making the arrangements. We need a backup plan, Dixon might decide this things too important to leave to the tender mercies of airline baggage."

"OK, I'll get you some backup. We'll be ready in London, New York, and here. You have my cell phone number? Plus, here's my European number. Plus, the easiest way to get information to me is to talk to Jack. Dixon can't suspect anything if all you do is brief your control."

Sydney nodded and started to leave. But she turned and said, "Wait, I told Francie I was getting a Chianti."

"What! Italian swill? Here, try this Burgundy from Baron Rothschild instead."

"I don't know Vaughn, I usually prefer California wines."

He choked on a cracker and handed her a bottle, shaking his head in apparent disgust.

Sydney smiled and left with her wine.

--- ---

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Crypt Forty-Seven Redux**

_Author's Notes: It's been awhile since I added to this one, but in keeping with my intention to finish all partly published stores, here I go._

_Disclaimer: See Part One._

**Chapter Eight**

When Sydney Bristow walked into the Hyperion, no one was in sight so she dinged the bell at the reception desk. She was marveling at the green marble, tracing it's patterns and digging the décor when Fred popped up from behind the desk.

"Oh! Hi Syd!"

"Hi Fred. Is Buffy here?"

"Yeah, I think she's out in the garden."

Sydney walked out the indicated door and paused to observe Buffy going through _Tai Chi_ exercises. She dropped her purse and jacket on a convenient bench, removed her shoes, and dropped into the mirror image of Buffy's. Buffy didn't pause as she continued, only noting that Sydney had no trouble following her move for move. Buffy briefly considered ramping things up to make it difficult for Syd, but decided she had nothing to prove and went for perfection of style and grace instead of slayer speed.

It was more than an hour later when they finally stopped; they were both so in the grove that time itself ceased to have meaning for either. They turned to the hotel entrance and were surprised to find they had an audience.

"Wow," said Fred, "that was, well, that was amazing."

The others nodded.

Sydney frowned at everyone and said to Buffy, "Let's find someplace private to talk."

Angel said, "We all have work, you guys can stay right here in the garden."

When they were alone again, Sydney said, "I'm on my way to London to retrieve the artifact from K-Directorate. You needn't mention to Vaughn I told you this, he thinks everything should be a secret."

"I'm going with you," said Buffy.

"Not just no, but hell no, this is not your business."

"It sure as hell is my business," said Buffy, "those buttheads stole it from the wrong person. Besides, I have a perfectly good reason to visit London, that's where the International Council of Watchers has its headquarters." Buffy didn't see any reason to mention that she had never been there, had never been invited, and probably wouldn't be particularly welcome if she showed up on their doorstep.

"I don't suppose I can stop you," Sydney sighed, "but I should. This is the thing, Buffy, I've seen you fight, and in hand to hand combat you are unbeatable. But you aren't bulletproof, and worse, you aren't attuned to guns. In my world, you are more likely to end up dead than in your world. With me, of course, it's exactly the opposite."

"I understand, but, your objections are incomplete. First, those guys in your house? I could have taken 'em, guns or no guns, but I wasn't going all out. It's not that I wasn't trying to kill them, I was trying not to injure them too badly. I could've taken the two in front down in about about a second and a half, leaving me plenty of time to dodge the bullets from the guy in back and get him too. But those guys would be in comas, with concussions and multiple horrifically broken bones, facing years of surgery and more years of physical therapy before they could lead a semi-normal life again. Their old lives would be totally destroyed."

"And what's wrong with that?" asked Sydney, "they're hitmen, they shoot people, beat them with baseball bats, shove knives through them, torture people for information, and murder them—hell, they probably gang rape their torture victims. So why shouldn't you hurt them?"

"As it happens, I've been thinking about it, and I've even dreamed about it. My conclusion is that the next time someone tries to shoot me, I'm taking them down. Period."

"I hope you mean it Buffy, because if you don't, you could die."

"Yeah, getting shot kinda showed me the error of my ways."

"OK Buffy, we all learn from our mistakes, at least from the ones that don't kill us first. Now remember this, if you should happen run into Dixon, know that he is not aware that he works for an enemy of the U.S., and you absolutely cannot tell him anything. We need to work on our stories before I go."

"I know this'll go against the grain Syd, but you're gonna have to brief me on your mission. I'll follow you, watching, waiting, just in case I'm needed."

"Buffy, how are you going to keep from getting spotted by the enemy? Both enemies, SD-6 and K-Directorate. For that matter, any real CIA agents will be surprised and suspicious if they spot you. And I would assume that British MI-5 agents would notice you too, if you happened along in the wrong spot at the wrong time."

"Have you seen my dumb-blond valley-girl act?"

"Have you seen mine?" smiled Syd in response.

--- ---

Buffy strode down the concourse at Heathrow Airport, looking every inch the California Girl. She was dressed in blindingly bright glossy pink leather pants and a white sweater, with open-toed sandals and a pink scarf around her neck. She carried a large white purse, really more of a leather bag, slung jauntily over her shoulder. She was happy that the customs men didn't notice the stakes and knives in the bottom of her bag, she had given them her brightest and most vacuous smile and that seemed to do the trick. Either that or Willow's little _don't-notice-these-weapons _spell. Anyway, for whatever reason they didn't spend much time rooting about in her bags or her underwear.

Giles, having arrived in London a day earlier in order to placate the Council, was waiting impatiently when he finally spotted her. He blinked a few times when he saw what she was wearing. When she finally stepped though the gate and came over to him, he said, "Goodness Buffy, aren't you wearing rather, uh, _bright_ clothing?"

"What's wrong with how I'm dressed?" she asked, offended.

"Well, nothing, I'm sure, but your trousers are so exceedingly _pink_."

"Hmmph, well Giles, the reason I'm coming on so much the valley girl is to throw off any secret agents that might be lurking."

"I see, or rather, I'm beginning to see. Is this part of the scheme you've cooked up with Miss Bristow?"

"Yes," said Buffy with a guilty look around, "and don't say her name out loud. It could get us attention we don't want. Let's go find my luggage."

"This way, Buffy."

As they walked companionably towards the baggage claim, Buffy asked, "Is it true that I'm old enough to buy beer in this country?"

Giles grimaced and answered, "Yes, but that doesn't mean you should."

"Spoil sport, besides, I know my limits."

"That remains to be seen. I still can't believe that you talked me into this enterprise without filling me in on the details."

"Well Giles, that's because I'm winging it."

"Oh dear," he replied.

"You see, the artifact was looted from the crypt where it had lain undisturbed for ages, then I stole it from the thieves, then it was stolen from me by SD-6. Then K-Directorate stole it from SD-6. The CIA traced it here, and Sydney Bristow is going to steal it back for SD-6, but then give it to the CIA instead. Meanwhile, the CIA is going to make a duplicate and give that to SD-6. I'm gonna stand around and watch Sydney's back, and look out for things like CIA, MI-5, SD-6, or K-Directorate getting in the way."

Giles shook his head mournfully, "Buffy, how did you get tangled up in this? This is not your turf, you should have stayed home, I should have stayed home. Here you are talking about secret spy stuff, when you are the Vampire Slayer—you have a sacred birthright Buffy, and critical work to attend, and it isn't here."

"Well, I've heard that argument before. If I recall, it didn't work any better then than it will now. However, I'll also be watching for any demonic creatures who might pop up, and of course, it's not inconceivable that our very own Council of Watchers might intrude. And Giles, the Rambaldi Artifact? Did that slip your mind? Are you getting senile?"

Giles glared down at Buffy with all the dignity and authority he could muster, which Buffy had to admit to herself, was quite a lot, but she gave good glare, too.

"Look Giles, the one thing I haven't mentioned to Sydney is that in the back of my mind I have the idea that we ought to be the ones who end up with the artifact after all. In our original assessment, we thought the CIA had good reason to collect this Rambaldi stuff, but in fact they're going after it only because Sydney's criminal boss is fanatically collecting Rambaldi artifacts. He's clearly evil, and he's clearly going to try to raise some unholy demonic thingy, which is in our purview and is clearly our business to stop."

Giles answered slowly, "You could be correct, and doesn't _that_ boggle the mind. Although I do wish you would endeavor not to use words such as 'thingy' in the same sentence as 'purview'. It grates on the ear."

"Giles! Focus!"

"All right, I suppose I had better inform the council of what's going on."

"Are you sure that's wise? Wouldn't they just screw it up?"

"We're on the home ground of the Council, you may be certain they already know a lot of what's going on. Besides, I had a pint with Travers yesterday, just to keep him from getting brassed-off with me, or more brassed-off, as it turned out."

"I hope this doesn't turn into a cock-up," Buffy said with a little grin.

"Buffy, some phrases are best left to the natives."

"Spoilsport."

"Yes, to be sure, Travers may be a bit dodgy, but we can't avoid him forever."

"No, I don't suppose we can, but I think I'm gonna regret this. Shall we both go see him for tea or something?"

"Hmm, high tea at the Council's headquarters overlooking the Thames. What could go wrong with that?"

"GILES! You just jinxed us!"

"I rather think I unjinxed us. Oh dear, I do hope that was a real word and not some of your California gobbledygook that's crept into my speech."

TBC


End file.
